


Danseuse

by immistermercury



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: (it's a ballet competition for a scholarship), Alternate Universe - Hospital, Fluff, Jim is 16, M/M, Prix de Lausanne, This is Really Fun I Promise, Travelling together, another fun fic, dancer!freddie, fred chasing his dreams, fred is 14, jim has already achieved his as far as he thinks, that's where they meet, we love determined spirited fred
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-09-15
Packaged: 2020-10-19 11:13:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20656295
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/immistermercury/pseuds/immistermercury
Summary: “My father always said I could do anything I put my mind to.” Freddie leaned over his left leg, stretching out his arch with pressure on his toes and his ankle. “I never thought I’d get into White Lodge, so why can’t I do this as well?”“I never said you couldn’t.” Jim chuckled. “You’ve got a fire in you, that’s certain.”“Too fucking right I have.” Freddie grinned. “Grit and determination and hard work will get you anywhere if you try hard enough.”





	Danseuse

**Author's Note:**

> Fun fact! I wrote this before I wrote Fluorescent (all those months ago!) and so you can see this as the precursor to my dancer!Freddie obsession. I apologise for the random spittings of fics you're getting at the moment - I'm preparing to move out next weekend (!) so I'm writing only when inspiration hits. After I've moved and settled down then I'll return to Fluorescent/Incandescent/Iridescent/Indulgence (what a list!) and make sure I don't leave anyone hanging!

The boy was beautiful.

The first thing he noticed was the long line of dark hair across his shoulders, freshly washed, soft and shiny and catching the light in a cascade of chocolates and coffees and maybe the odd liquor that Jim should never have tasted. The second thing he noticed was the cast on his lower leg, and the long scar along the line of the muscle in his thigh; the third was the satin shoes on his feet as he twirled playfully with the help of the nurse.

He laughed delightedly as the nurse held his hand and helped him to turn; he balanced effortlessly on the toes of his uninjured leg, squealing when he managed the full turn by himself. “Thank you!” He said happily, hugging his nurse tightly.

It struck Jim for a moment just how young he looked in the arms of the older man.

“Ballet?” Jim questioned, leaning on his crutches as he stood in the doorway. 

“I respond to that as a name by now.” The boy turned to him and tucked his hair back from his face. His eyes were gorgeously dark, the same hue as his hair, and his smile was just the warm side of shy: Jim had never believed in love at first sight, but there was something behind his eyes that made Jim want more, more, more.

“Are they ballet shoes?” Jim changed the phrasing of the question and matched the smile before him with one of his own. The stranger sat on the end of his bed and looked up at him, warm and happy and open and loving.

“There are technically three types of ballet shoe.” The boy began, cheeky but trusting in Jim’s willingness to listen. “There’s the full sole, which you wear as a small child, split soles, which you wear normally, and these. These are pointe shoes.” He pointed his good foot and emphasised the line of the shoe. “So yes, these are ballet shoes.”

Jim moved a little farther into the room and held out a hand for the boy to take. “I’m Jim.” He smiled. “I study hairdressing. I’m sixteen.”

The boy grinned up at him, smile lopsided and a little toothy, childlike and crooked. “I’m Freddie. I go to White Lodge, which is the junior school of the Royal Ballet.” He said proudly. “I’m fourteen.”

“Are you going to do it professionally?” He questioned. “Mind if I sit down?”

“Go for it!” Freddie said excitedly. “I haven’t had anyone come to visit for a little while. Yes, I’m going to do it professionally. Everyone said I wouldn’t dance again because I broke my leg in three places but I’m already back to doing turns.”

“I’m not just visiting, actually.” Jim sat in the armchair in the room and sighed with relief. “I’m your new roommate.”

“You are?” Freddie asked hopefully.

“Until this all heals up.” He gestured at his leg and smiled. “I bust it pretty bad. Open fracture and everything.”

“Ouch.” Freddie leaned forward, glancing at the boy in front of him as though he were the moon and the stars and everything in between. “How did it happen?”

“I was heading down into the cellar at work because our hot water stopped working and I slipped on one of the stairs. It was wet.” He clarified at Freddie’s incredulous face. “I fell two flights of stairs and completely bust my leg. It took them an hour to find me because they thought I was off on lunch.”

“The room of occupational hazards.” Freddie leaned on the palm of his hand and sighed happily. “I broke my leg in three places. I’m lucky I didn’t bust my back.”

“Occupational hazards?” Jim echoed. “You did that in ballet? I thought ballet was pretty tame.”

“My favourite misconception.” Freddie chuckled. “I got a little excited. The main ballet company wanted a kid to play a cherub and I got chosen and I got to be up on the balcony for my part.” Freddie smiled that toothy grin again and Jim’s heart warmed a little too much. “But I fell a floor down because the railings were loose. I broke my thigh bone up by my hip, and both lower leg bones. I cried like a baby for three days because they said I’d never dance again.”

The image of Freddie, alone and in pain and in tears, was too much for Jim’s heart to handle. He stood up and sat beside Freddie on the bed, carefully wrapping him up in a hug; Freddie sighed with delight and snuggled into the embrace, as easily as if they’d been doing it for years. “Are your parents not around?”

“They live in India.” Freddie explained. “So I was on my own. That’s why I haven’t gone back to school yet, because I can’t be independent because I can’t walk properly on my own.” He looked down at his feet and pointed his toes again. “I don’t mind, though. I love it in England.”

Jim chuckled. “You’re the happiest person I’ve ever met.” He said; Freddie’s endless positivity made the corners of his lips turn upwards. 

Freddie giggled with delight. “I have the best life I could ask for. How couldn’t I be happy?”

* * *

Freddie glanced around his little room, and when he was sure he was alone, he stood up from his bed. He held onto the top of the table and stood on the toes of his uninjured leg, lowering and raising himself repeatedly; the music in his head was so loud that it was practically palpable, smooth and rich as he tried just one little turn. He was so determined to get back to dancing as soon as his leg was healed, not caring if he rushed his recovery: he was humiliated by his failure in his first attempt, and swore he wouldn’t let the same thing happen again. He needed to practice more, spend more time in the studio in between the end of school and homework hours. He needed to find an audition piece, someone to play for him while he practiced for hours on end, something good enough to grab the attention of the Upper School and maybe even the company one day.

He’d had enough practice turning on one leg, but his left leg wasn’t his dominant side and the added weight of the cast still caused him to overbalance a little: he focused almost too hard, trying so desperately to manage to master that one little turn once again. He was determined they wouldn’t be right, he would dance again, and he’d dance amongst bright lights and roses for anyone and everyone to see; he’d be a principal one day, he’d shoot through the ranks in the space of a few years, he’d win the  Prix de Lausanne if only the Royal would foot the bill for him to compete in Switzerland. He knew he had a gift, and he was damn certain that he’d make everyone else see it, too.

“Watch out, dancer boy.” Jim limped precariously on one crutch, holding a coffee in his other hand. “Don’t you need your nurse to try these things?”

Freddie wanted to wrinkle his nose, to whine petulantly, but he forced himself to keep composure: it wasn’t Jim’s fault that he knew absolutely nothing about the world he lived in. “I can manage by myself.” He said insistently, laying down on his bed and stretching out his splits. “I’m nearly back to turning.”

“I’m sure you can.” Jim curled up in the armchair at the side of the room, propping up his injured leg. “I just don’t want you getting hurt again and having to go back to square one.”

“I appreciate your concern-” Freddie’s voice was only semi-sarcastic. “But I have a very important competition coming up, and I need all the practice I can get.”

Jim held out the mug beside him as a peace offering and smiled. “What competition is so important, then?”

“It’s the Prix de Lausanne.” Freddie said, pronouncing its name with reverence. “I can win a scholarship to whichever ballet company wants me. They pay for me to study with them for a whole year, and they give me money to cover my living expenses. It’s a surefire way for me to break into the industry.”

Jim liked listening to him talk about it; it was so detached from every part of his life he’d ever known. “And where would you go? Somewhere exotic?”

“Well-” Freddie faltered. “No, not exactly. I’d like to go to The Royal Ballet.” He admitted, fanning his blushing cheeks furiously. “It’s not about exoticism, it’s about the opportunities, and I think the Royal is the best ballet company that’s ever existed. One year of training there could mean I could skip straight to being a soloist for any ballet company I chose.”

“Wouldn’t you want to stay there?” Jim asked, taking a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. “I thought you said you were training with them at the moment?” He questioned, trying to tie each loose end together.

“Well, yes.” His cheeks turned a darker red. “But money’s getting pretty tight and we can’t really afford the fees for much longer, so this is my chance to make sure I can stay.”

“And how many dancers take part in this competition? Where is it held?” He sipped his own coffee and lit a cigarette.

“Don’t blow that in my direction.” Freddie said quickly. “Around a thousand people apply, they select eighty of the best and then the top twenty go through to the finals. It’s in Switzerland.”

Jim pointedly held his cigarette up to the window, making sure the smoke didn’t just blow back in, and smiled when Freddie smiled at him. “That’s pretty tough odds.”

“My father always said I could do anything I put my mind to.” Freddie leaned over his left leg, stretching out his arch with pressure on his toes and his ankle. “I never thought I’d get into White Lodge, so why can’t I do this as well?”

“I never said you couldn’t.” Jim chuckled. “You’ve got a fire in you, that’s certain.”

“Too fucking right I have.” Freddie grinned. “Grit and determination and hard work will get you anywhere if you try hard enough.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this puts a smile on your face! As always, if it does then kudos/comments/messaging me on tumblr (immistermercury) is always much appreciated! Also, apologies for the crossover with Fluorescent, but hopefully the beginning note explains it well enough!


End file.
